Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Tea and Toast

When I was growing up, if I was sick, been dumped, been grounded, stressed about exams I would hibernate and drink lots cups of tea with endless buttery toast. Erm, that is toasted sliced white bread to all you non-Brits. Somehow the carbs, the caffeine, the sugar, the gross but yummy film of butter that would gradually appear on the top of the tea, would make me feel better. Today is a tea and toast day.

Yesterday was a disaster. I realise that Haiti is a real disaster, but this was the ultimate 'all the little things go wrong day'. From the moment I woke up, until my best friend turned up with a bottle of wine at 6pm, all the small things went wrong. A small selection: I lost my monthly metro card, my hairdresser turned my hair mustard (some 20 something looked at me like I was retarded when I tried to explain why this was not my chosen colour) and I forgot to wear knickers to my doctor appointment. Ah yes, cue the nice MALE dermatologist who politely asked me to undress to my underwear so that he could check my skin. Imagine his face as I tell him that I am not wearing any underwear (I had running leggings on, nothing goes under those suckers). Also, imagine his face as he scans up and sees the mustard hair. He gave me a paper sheet to cover my magic kingdom (as my Mother calls it), which was not quite wide enough. As he stood at the front (trying not to make eye contact with the mad woman), it was fine but then I had to shuffle the bit of paper around to the back as he walked round to examine my back. It was just as painful for him as it was for me.

So, I wondering today, do you need to be on top form to cope with this city. Yesterday, the small things that started to go wrong seemed to accumulate much more quickly than anywhere else on earth. The subway ran slower, the cab I got into was smellier, there were more crazy people in my subway car. Maybe all these things are in equal abundance everyday but on other days my joy at being here provided an armor too thick for it to penetrate. Is this the end of the honeymoon period? Perhaps it is the end of the crush and time to move into the long-term relationship with Manhattan - you know, a roll of the eyes here, a tut there. Maybe Manhattan and I will have days where we just need to yell at one another. Can't wait for the making up though...

Keepin her chin up
Torie B

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